


An Adventure in Pudding

by Consultingcrackaddicts (orphan_account), oohtheyhavenibbles (Alethiometric)



Series: A Study in Kinks [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bondage, Crack, Crack Fic, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, Food Kink, Food Sex, Light Bondage, M/M, Mild Kink, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, PWP, Porn, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2012-08-04
Packaged: 2017-11-11 10:16:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Consultingcrackaddicts, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethiometric/pseuds/oohtheyhavenibbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This fic picks up where The Great Donut Caper left off, but the first fic is not required reading. They are in a deserted bakery and get down to some weird sexy times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Adventure in Pudding

**Author's Note:**

> A group of us wrote this as a sequel, and we intended it to be crack porn, but it developed into really, really strange crack porn. Kinks abound! We hope you enjoy it.
> 
> We take crack requests/prompts! You can submit one to us at: consultingcrackaddicts.tumblr.com/ask  
> We'll post it on the blog and here on Ao3. :]

Sherlock got to his feet, dragging John up with him. They stood, toe-to-toe, staring at each other. John’s gaze was totally out of it, as if he were still trying to process the fucked up thing they just did. Sherlock’s was more like “run bitch, I’m coming for your ass.” Because he was.

“Get behind the display case.” Sherlock growled, pushing John away from him.

John did as he was told, while Sherlock went to pull the blinds of the bakery closed. Of course, he did it with style, because even when angry Sherlock was a sassy motherfucker.

John waited behind the display case, quivering with excitement, wondering how this next sexual endeavor would progress. Sherlock swanned back over to John, and slid over the counter top on one hip. John was overcome with lust. Visible lust. Like a magical aura of sexytimes. It was very purple, like the colour of homosexuality.

Sherlock leaned on the edge of the counter, with a smarmy expression on his face. He reached for John, and John came to him like a tiny lamb or something a bit sexier than that, considering his raging hard-on. A Mountain Goat perhaps?

“John,” he said, “I think it’s time we took care of you.”

Sliding down off the counter, he practically shoved John through the opposite wall in his haste to back that ass up against something. He sank to his knees and gracefully freed John’s pants python. His eyes travelled up John’s body until they made contact, just as Sherlock flicked his tongue out to greet Mr. trouser snake. It glistened in the dim light of the bakery.

“What are you, um. Going to do?” John stammered. Staring at Sherlock’s hot pink tongue as Sherlock wet his lips demurely, like the secret slut he is.

“Well, I’m going to start by putting your penis in my mouth.” Sherlock said dryly, “And then I’m going to suck on it until you can’t form a coherent sentence. And then...”

He gave John’s johnson a solid lick and a wee nibble.

“And then I’m going to fuck you.”

 

John tried to stifle a moan, but the sweetness of the touch was too good. It was like cake icing. He thrust forward at Sherlock’s face, groaning like a wanton mistress of the night.

“Sh-Sherlock!”

“John, if you can’t be quiet, I’ll have to make you.” Sherlock said, and it while it was really sexy, it was no different from the way he usually spoke to people, which was like an asshole.

John was internally flipping shit. He totally wanted to freak the fuck out and start breakdancing in Sherlock’s mouth or something, but it was hard with Sherlock hovering over his dick like some sort of fucking vulture.

“Just eat it already, would you? Christ!” John gasped.

And suddenly, Sherlock was gone from his pants. Before he had time to react, an apricot danish was being shoved fully into his mouth. John choked a bit as it hit the back of his throat.

“MmffmfmmfmmfShhsnfjkedenmark!” He tried to say, while his hands were fastened behind his back with pastry-box ribbons.

“Shhh, John, just take it.” Sherlock murmured into the cock in front of him.

John coughed and got some pastry between his teeth, munching dutifully. Trying to swallow it all as quickly as he could. It tasted of apricot and fully realized homosexuality. He couldn’t wait to get some sweet, sweet Sherlock lovin’.

Sherlock got down into John’s business like it was his job. He ran his left hand up John’s sturdy thighs, while his right hand worked John’s sturdy sex appendage. He gently sucked on the glorious bell-end in his mouth, swirling his tongue under the ridge. He didn’t want to rush this, but he was desperate to taste John’s cream filling.

John swallowed the last morsel of danish and took the opportunity to release a guttural moan.

“John!” Sherlock’s head snapped up once more.

He grabbed an eclair from the display case behind them and shoved one end into John’s gaping cake hole. While he liked John’s sensual moans, he enjoyed them more when they had to fight their way past pastry and cream to be heard. It was an addictive sound. He went back to work, gulping in as much cock as he could. He thought it tasted better than any pastry he had ever had. Probably better than the eclair John was currently mouthing on, like he was sucking the life-seed out of Sherlock’s own sex stick.

...

Anyway. So then Sherlock was giving john head while John dribbled cream all down his front and onto his own crotch. It was obviously really hot. John was slurping and chewing with his eyes tightly closed, while Sherlock werqed dat diq out, like it needed polishing. John’s dick was, after all, pretty much a fucking trophy and everyone knows that trophies deserve to be polished. When Sherlock was finished, he might even get John’s dick bronzed, that’s how precious it was.

“Sherlock,” John gasped through his last mouthful, “I, I’m-”

Sherlock took this as his cue to withdraw, and John groaned at the loss, glaring down at Sherlock past his cream-covered lips.

“John, I’m going to need you to take off your pants.” Sherlock said, undoing the ribbons around John’s wrists.

“Aw yiss,” John thought, more than happy to oblige. He kicked off his shoes and pulled his pants and trousers off in one fluid motion. He was keen to be as naked as possible, as so removed the rest of his clothing as well. Looking up again, he saw that Sherlock was also in his birthday suit and standing to attention, if you catch my drift.

“Get down on your knees, John.” Sherlock snarled, eying John with wanton lust.

John did as he was told, because he’s a little bitch in this scenario. Sherlock pushed him forward, and his hands hit the cold linoleum with a thump. Next thing he knew, thick box ribbons were being tied around his eyes, blocking out the dim light of the bakery.

“Sherlock, wh-” he tried to say, but his mouth was interrupted, he could only assume it was with more ribbon, as he felt a bow being tied at the back of his head. Now naked, blind and gagged with thick decorative ribbon, John felt like a present that Sherlock, an eager child, was about to undo.

Sherlock leaned back and surveyed the delicious sight before him. His vast mind racing, he couldn’t figure out what he wanted, it wasn’t enough.

“What else, what else?” he muttered to himself, looking around the room.

John waited, completely at Sherlock mercy, his aching dick bobbing in the cool air of the afternoon.

“Mmmphdfg” he said, turning his head to where Sherlock might have been.

No response. He started to worry a bit. Had Sherlock left him here on his knees, wanting? He knew his flat-mate to be cruel, but this seemed too much.

 

And then he felt it, a heat on his back quickly building to a searing burn.

“MMmph!!” He tried to scream.

“Shh, John, I’m just decorating you,” came the deep voice from somewhere behind him.

And Sherlock was. Melting small coloured candles in a row down John’s spine, so that they would stay there and twinkle like a sexy birthday stegosaurus. Lighting the last candle in the row, in the dip of John’s back, Sherlock smirked, and slapped his friend on the rump.

“You look amazing John, if only you could see yourself.” Sherlock murmured into the flesh of John’s behind before he bit down there, enjoying the resulting yelp.

He got up one last time to retrieve a golden party hat for his golden boy, which he then put on John’s head, sliding the elastic under his chin. He planted a rough kiss on John’s lips before he stuck a party horn between them, stuffing it in tightly through the the gag of ribbon. 

“Blow John.” Sherlock whispered teasingly into John’s ear. A satisfied smirk crossing his lips as he viewed the masterpiece he had created.

“I’m being entirely serious John, I want you to blow on it.” Sherlock said mockingly, as he slid his hand down John’s chest to one of his nipples, preparing to pinch it.

“Do as you’re told, John.” Sherlock said in a low voice.

He counted to three before he let rip on John’s nub, twisting it hard to the left. John’s resulting cry of pain caused the party horn to sound, unrolling from his lips and standing out as straight as both of their hardened penises.

“Good boy, John.” Sherlock murmured, rubbing the nipple he had just abused.

“Now that you’re all set for the party, shall we begin?”

“Mmpg” John mewled.

“Don’t worry, you’ll like this!” Sherlock laughed darkly, returning to John’s rear. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

He rubbed his hands over John’s buns, gently squeezing the soft skin as he bent down to taste it. He gently kissed and licked at each cheek in turn before turning his attention to the glory between them. He ran his tongue down the crack until he felt his tongue touch gold. John jerked forward slightly as Sherlock parted his cheeks for better access, tonguing slowly at John’s anus, feeling it tighten out of shock, arousal, and trepidation, he surmised. Because he was deducing now, since deductions are fucking sexy and there is a lot that can be deduced from one’s anus.

“Come on now John, loosen up.” Sherlock murmured into John’s butt hole. “Don’t make me make you...”

John stiffened at the threat, cock hard. Sherlock was right, he was enjoying this. Whatever “this” was.  
Sherlock continued his ass-plundering campaign, licking and touching and slipping in a finger tip every now and again, all agonizingly slowly. He couldn’t help but shed a single majestic tear as he realized that this booty-plundering was, essentially, fulfilling all of his childhood dreams of piracy on the high seas. Except now the sea was a butt, named John Watson’s butt.

“John, once I claim your treasure, it will always be mine, do you understand?” He growled against John’s skin, lost in this new feeling of love and sexual arousal and butt exploration.

John nodded and pushed his bum slightly back into Sherlock’s mouth, eager to continue this really fucking weird sexual awakening. It was like seeing a double rainbow for the first time, except the rainbow was a giant penis of wonder and semen.

Sherlock gripped John by the back of his thighs and buried his nose in the cleft of John’s cheeks, licking wetly from John’s testicles to his reddening butt hole, groaning at the heat.

“It’s time to prepare you John; are you ready?” He said.

Steadying John with a hand on his lover’s hip, the other hand slipping into the saliva-soaked crevice of love, gently pushing a finger into the tight heat of John’s body. He moved his finger forwards carefully in John’s delicious love space, twisting it slightly before slowly pulling it out again.

“Try to adjust quickly John, I’m not feeling particularly patient.” Sherlock said, his voice dripping with lusty judgement, like the slutty bitch he is.

Sherlock grabbed a bottle of cooking oil and up-ended it at the top of John’s crack, letting the thick liquid pour down his crevice of desire. Sherlock ran his other hand up the slit, collecting oil before massaging it into John’s balls lightly.

“Are you ready?” He asked, his voice deep with want.

“Mmph” John mumbled, desperate. 

It was music to Sherlock’s ears. He worked his middle finger slowly into John’s anus, pushing it in carefully. He swiveled it around a bit, before he withdrew again, a lot rougher on the way out. Continuing on as hastily as he could, he soon added another finger. John’s head hung down between his shoulders, the back of his neck red and sweaty.

“John, I’m growing tired of this. How ready are you?”

John’s head snapped up and shook frantically. Not very ready, then.

“Fine,” sighed Sherlock, disdainful as always. He rose to his feet and ventured into the kitchen.

“This might speed things up, alright? I’m afraid fingers are not proficient enough in this situation.” Sherlock said, returning to their spot on the floor. 

He returned with a small rolling pin, sufficiently contoured for rectal stimulation. He wrapped it in cling wrap and pouring oil on until it ran down his arm and dripped off his elbow. Sherlock prepared John for the pin. It was about the size of his hand in length, and a slightly smaller circumference than Sherlock’s own penis. The handle met little resistance, sliding in wetly. The body of the rolling pin was another matter. They both pushed at their respective ends, until half the length has disappeared into John’s behind. Sherlock thrust it in and out, slowly and gently, until he heard John moan.

“Is this good, John? Do you like this?” He asked, his voice catching on it’s self and his own unbridled desire, like a wild horse about to get laid by another wild horse. Neiiigh!

“Mmmmg” John groaned in his throat, avoiding sending noise through the party horn (which had remained silent since the unforgiving nipple torture).

“Do you want more, John?” Sherlock asked, sounding predatory and dangerous as fuck. He wasn’t like a hovering dick-vulture anymore. Instead, he was a freaky-deaky ass panther.

“Mmmph” said John, sounding desperate.

“Then you’re going to have to beg for it,” hissed Sherlock, pulling the rolling pin out of John’s ass and slapping him there, making the flames on the candles shake.  
“Mnnng!” cried John, the party horn hooting quietly.

“What a pathetic effort John.” Sherlock snarled, like an angry bitch, “Do try harder, or I might just leave you here. I asked you if you wanted it!” He said, branding John’s cheek with the oiled rolling pin.

“MMMNNNGGG!” John yelled, the party horn uncurling. It sounded ridiculous mixed in with John’s shout of pain.

“That’s much better.” Said Sherlock, squeezing down hard on the buttock he’d just assaulted. He laid a kiss on it for good measure. He continued kissing up John’s side, maneuvering around the candle spine. He reached John’s bullet wound and bit down, licking at the damaged skin.

“I hope you know how absurd you look.” Sherlock murmured into John’s shoulder, leaning over the candles, “My pretty little cake.”

He straightened up again, caressing John’s sides.

“It’s time, John.” He said as he slicked up his cock, oil dripping obscenely from his base, dribbling over his testicles and down his legs.

He moved forward on his knees, nudging John’s legs open wider. Gripping his hips, he slipped his cock between his cheeks, and thrust himself up and down the wet crack. 

“Oh, god, John.” Sherlock moaned, “You have no idea how this feels.”

He moved one hand down to rub all over John’s butt. It felt great.

Sherlock stilled himself, and looked down at the treasure in front of him. Candles half gone, he thought he ought to get a move on.

His cock slipped free of John’s butt crack as he reached over to the display case. He lifted out the biggest Red Velvet cake, and pushed it into position under John’s dripping cock.

“I’m going to fuck you now.” He announced, voice thick with want.

He lined himself up behind John once more, his right hand on his soon-to-be-lover’s hip, his left hand on his own cock, slowly stroking himself as he moved forward, pushing into John’s virgin man-love cave.

The heat was immense. Sherlock had to pause half-way in, gasping at the sensation. He leaned over John, the candles creating little points of warmth from just above his pubis to the top of his chest. He bent down and placed a lingering kiss on John’s neck, burning himself slightly on his conquests hazardous back. Close and painfully intimate, he’d never wanted John more than he currently did while in the act of having him.

He straightened slowly, and resumed his plundering ways, thrusting in and out of John’s hot anal cavity. He moaned, John moaned, and they picked up the pace. At this point in time, their sex was a collaborative effort, John pushing back when Sherlock came forwards, the faster they got, the sloppier they got, their bodies too slick to move cooperatively. John’s untouched penis shined with pre-cum, dripping onto the cake below. And as hard as he tried not to, he occasionally made pathetic hooting noises through his party horn. At least his hat was still securely atop his head.

Sherlock started thrusting hard, mercilessly, gripping onto John’s hips tightly with both hands. As he fucked deeply into John’s anus, John cried out, horn sounding.

“Yes, John!” cried Sherlock, drinking in the absurdly arousing sight before him.

And it was time. He pushed John forward onto his belly. He landed dick first in the humongous Red Velvet cake, his horn sounding again in shock. He tried to get back onto his knees, but his legs were forced apart by Sherlock, who was holding himself barely above the ever-shrinking flames by pinning John’s shoulders to the floor, humping roughly into the oiled arse under him.

“You’re my little cake John.” Sherlock growled into John’s ear, “I am going to devour you.”

“Mmmph!” Cried John, horn straightening again in some sort of sick farce.

John got his forearms underneath him and began to push back into Sherlock’s thrusts, his dick burrowing further and further into the Red Velvety mess beneath him. Sherlock clawed at John’s arse, his fingers digging into the cheeks as he rode John roughly. He slid his hands up John’s body, gripping his sides as he leaned his forehead against John’s shoulder blade. He made his final thrusts, crying out as he came.

“John,” he gasped into the panting figure below him.

He nuzzled John’s ear, kissing his neck languidly. He left a playful hickey there, saliva dripping down John’s neck and onto the floor below.

“John.” He said, “I want you to finish now.”

John nodded, still panting.

“I want...” Sherlock said, as he reached for the rolling pin.

“I want you to-”

He kissed John’s neck again as he pushed the pin back into John’s body, gently twisting and pushing it, each thrust met by John’s hips.

“Fuck. The cake.” He whispered, his hand trailing away from the rolling pin, leaving John to his own devices.

John lay still. He turned his head toward Sherlock, still blind, his gag now deliciously soaked with spit.

“Mmh?” He mumbled, his desperation obvious.

Sherlock rolled onto his back, laughing like the gigantic douchebag he is.

“If you want, John. I mean, I can always just leave you here.” He said aloofly, reaching for another length of ribbon.

He secured it around John’s wrists and forearms. John would still be able to support himself, but he wouldn’t be able to remove the other ribbons or put his clothes back on.  
“It’s up to you, John.” Said Sherlock, his voice lofty.

He returned to the floor and lay down on his side, head propped up on one hand. He looked like an Adonis, while John looked like some sort of fucked up sex nightmare. He watched John’s glorious form, candle stubs still glowing on his back, wax dripping down his sides, golden party hat still sitting jauntily like a crown on top of John’s soft hair.

John’s eyebrows were drawn into a frown, as he was obviously trying to come to terms with the situation, to rationalize what he was about to do. Sherlock smirked. He knew John would do it. He’d fuck a cake for Sherlock, here on the floor of a deserted bakery, before he walked outside looking like he did. He trusted Sherlock, and why shouldn’t he?

Maybe because Sherlock had taken his phone out and was recording John, in all his ridiculous glory. He moved back far enough that he could get a shot down John’s side, so that his face as well as his crotch where in the shot.

Sherlock’s eyes lit up with glee, as John slowly began to thrust.

Sherlock thought that John’s cock sliding through the thick icing and layers of sponge made the loveliest noise. A wet schlicking kind of noise. He gazed on as John found a rhythm, found purchase on his knees, and began pushing hard into the cake, slowly decimating it into a red spongy mush. Sherlock grabbed a handful of squished cake and rubbed it over John’s chest, smearing it over the nipples there. He slapped some onto John’s buttocks too, for good measure.

“You look ridiculous John.” He whispered into John’s ear, enjoying the flush that crept up John’s face.

“You look like a slutty cake fucking another cake. Just be glad I didn’t put candles on that one too.” He growled, biting cake-John’s ear.

He wanted John to fully appreciate what he was currently doing for Sherlock. John’s movements faltered a bit, and he hung his head, embarrassed and concentrating, as he picked up the pace again, fucking hard into the buttercream icing, red sponge sticking to his aching dick. Sherlock loved the way his whole body tensed just before he came, his muscles straining and standing out. It was beautiful.

John cried out, muffled by the gag, his party horn blowing hard, like a tiny, glitter sex elephant. He sunk forward into the cake as Sherlock leaned down to kiss his back and extinguish the candles.

“Good boy.” Sherlock murmured, voice dripping with sarcasm.

John’s forehead was pressed against the floor, his brows still contracted

“Don’t be ashamed. You enjoyed it, didn’t you?” Sherlock whispered into John’s ear, still mocking.

John turned his face away from Sherlock, his shoulders tense. Truth was, he’d never had kinkier sex in his life and his mind had just been blown. It was one thing to hump a cake because you have no other choice, but to actually enjoy? To want to do it again (and again and again)?

Of course, Sherlock had deduced as much (from John’s anus), and he only chuckled. He rolled John gently off the cake, and reached over to undo the gag. The party horn fell to the ground.

“Sherl-” John began, his voice rasping as Sherlock covered his mouth again.

“I don’t want you to talk. I want you to do as you’re told, do you understand?”

John nodded, exasperated, his body sagging once more. Sherlock took his hand away and kissed John full on the mouth, biting down on the other man’s lower lip. Pulling away, he looked down to the mess of red sponge on the floor. John’s softening dick was covered in it. Sherlock located the bits of cake soaked in John’s semen and gathered them together in his hand.

“Open up, cum-slut” Sherlock said, grinning. John opened his mouth obediently, accepting the cake that Sherlock pushed in there. He began chewing, and Sherlock relished the look on his face as he tasted himself through the sweetness.

“Oh, come on, Sherlock!” He said, like an angry bee.

Sherlock laughed. What a fucking bitch.

“One more, John, you’re doing brilliantly.” He said, enjoying having his friend at his mercy, because this is what they really mean when they say “Sociopath”.

Resigned, John ate the remainder of his seed-covered cake. Sherlock stopped recording the ordeal before he undid the ribbons around John’s arms. He sent the file to his own e-mail address, so that he might have a backup copy of it. To, you know, fap to.

“Clean yourself up and get dressed John, I’m famished.” He said with a manic grin.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Sherlock?”

He wasn’t.

“There’s a large sink in the back,” Sherlock said, pulling on his pants.

“Can you at least help me with the blindfold?” John asked.

“Mm, no. I’ve got things to do.” He said.

Which was a fucking lie, because he had absolutely nothing to do. He buttoned up his shirt and slipped on his shoes, ignoring the string of profanities and other general abuse flowing from John’s pretty swollen lips.

“Anyway, I’ll meet you at Angelo’s.”

“Sherlock! I can’t believe you!” Yelled John, having reached the end of his weird, cake-sex tether.

Sherlock sighed. Time to do some damage control. He walked over to John, and kissed him gently, breaking the candles off his back. John leaned into the kiss roughly, mostly because he was having wax unceremoniously ripped from his skin. Dropping to his knees, Sherlock gently lifted John’s penis and once more took it into his mouth, cleaning away the evidence of the Red Velvet fuck-fest. Swallowing, he looked back up at John, who was frowning less now. He stood up again and leaned against his partner-in-crime-and-also-in-butts.  
“I hope this won’t be the last time we do this.” He purred into John’s ear, “And if you’re ever quick enough, you’re welcome to get your own back.”

“I’ll be sure to think of something good.” Said John tersely, although he still reached up to Sherlock for another kiss.

Sherlock kissed John one last time before stepping back over the destroyed cake. He put his coat on while John struggled with the blindfold, and grabbing a cupcake for the road, he walked out into the late afternoon sun, leaving a sticky and incredibly confused John behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are always appreciated. :] 
> 
> Info for requests/prompts can be found in the notes at the top.


End file.
